As a young minister in
Arkansas, I was asked by a funeral director to

hold a grave-side service for a homeless man, who had no family or
friends. The funeral was to be held at a new cemetery way back in the

country, and this man would be the first to be buried there.

I was not familiar with the backwoods area, and I soon became lost.
Being a typical man, I did not stop to ask for directions.

I finally arrived an hour late. I saw the backhoe and the open grave,
but the hearse was nowhere in sight. The digging crew was eating lunch.


I apologized to the workers for my tardiness, and I stepped to the side
of the open grave. There I saw the vault lid already in place. I assured
the workers I would not hold them up for long, as I told them that this
was the proper thing to do.

The workers gathered around the grave and stood silently, as I began to
pour out my heart and soul.

As I preached about "looking forward to a brighter tomorrow" and "the
glory that is to come," the workers began to say "Amen,"
"Praise the
Lord," and "Glory!" The fervor of these men truly inspired me. So, I
preached and I preached like I had never preached before, all the way
from Genesis to Revelations.

I finally closed the lengthy service with a prayer, thanked the
men, and
walked to my car. As I was opening the door and taking off my coat, I
heard one of the workers say to another, "I ain't NEVER seen nothin'
like that before, and I've been putting in septic tanks for thirty years!"